


Signing lessons

by Slant



Series: Not really a wrestling au [1]
Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Lord Dunsany - works, Manifesto of the Communist Party 1848, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: Babies, Body Horror, But I Repeat Myself, Dunsuny, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Kink, Rubber, Sign Language, Slime, diversity and inclusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2019-08-25 09:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16659044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slant/pseuds/Slant
Summary: First: Catra practices her language skills with one of the other members of the squad.Later: sports entertainment wrestlingLater still: horrifying babiesIt makes sense, honest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the opening chapter in my Marxist R'yleh-rules mixed-phylum wrestling AU*. As of the second episode, the tentacle creature that shares Adora and Catra's dorm has no lines, so I can make up anything I want and claim canon-compliance :)
> 
> EDIT: The tentacle creature in the barracks isn't Octavia who we meet in ep 11; 1) Octavia has a dumb face 2) her tentacle are much scrawnier 3) Shes ten years older than Adora's squad. 
> 
>  
> 
> *may be a lie

"A ... frightful hobgoblin," said Catra. She leafed though her signing dictionary. 

"A ... frightful hobgoblin, is haunting Etheria. The hobgoblin of princesses." She paused "`The Hobgoblin of Princesseses'? that doesn't sound right. "

Asinath repeated the sequence of gestures that Catra had translated as `hobgoblin'. Asinath Waite-Sothoth was a eight-foot pile of viscid green tentacles, and every member of the squad had an hour of signing practice with her every week to help integrate the team. The Evil Horde had superlative accessibility policies. 

Catra repeated the gesture back as well as her inflexible internal skeleton and limited limb-number allowed. "Oh! like vague spiritual essence, not supernatural Little People. `Spectre'?"

" _Yes._ " Catra had no problems translating that one.

"You're very into this stuff. Like the rest of us know to say `Princesses are dangerous', but the history of class struggle is the first thing you start signing about when we're stuck for a subject. I'd just be all `lets go steal Shadow Weaver's booze."

" _Fear the King in Yellow. Look not beneath the scalloped tatters of his robe._ "

"Yeah, that totally, but also," Catra glanced around "I went through your locker. Nice tiara Bee Tee Dubs. I mean, it wouldn't fit on anyone I know, too... elliptical...  but nice all the same."

" _Fear._ " The gesture for "I am experiencing this emotion" was like the word, only exaggerated and trembling in a way that Catra hated to see on her friend. 

"No nono. Shit. Ididn'tmean. I won't tell anyone, okay? and if anyone asks me there's plenty of legitimate reasons for anyone to have one." Catra put her hand out and gave Asinath's tentacle-tip a reassuring squeeze. "I promise."

Asinath relaxed a bit.

"So, what was this about?" Catra repeated back a gesture. "Something about robes?"

" _Border decorations. Like the bivalve. Or an approach to hemming._ "

"I don't think I know that word in my own language. Like this?" she repeated the gesture again. 

" _Scalllllllooooooped._ " Asinath slowed the sign right down.

" _Like Shadow Weaver's robe._ "

"Oh."


	2. Chapter 2

"My mum said that She-Ra would bring balance like it was a good thing. That's weird, right?" said Glimmer, "Right now there's us and the Horde, and they're, well it sucks and I hate it, but they're winning."  
"If it was balanced, we'd be drawing."  
"And then half the people would suffer under their rule, and a bunch of people on our side would suffer during border skirmishes."  
"Balance sounds ... bad."  
"Huh," said Adora, "I just try to help people where I can. I wasn't aiming for balance, but when you explain like that it does sound bad."  
"The way I see it, we can have balance as long as there is some sort of ongoing struggle and things stay even. But it doesn' t have to be war. We could do away with the armies and just have, I dunno, wrestling stables instead," said Bow. His eyes lit up, "I could be a luchador! With a mask!"  
"I like it! peaceful, but I still get to hit people with flowers! This is surely the will of the universe!"  
"I'm not sure that there's a balance to wrestling if one side has Scorpia." said Adora.

* * *

 

 

_"The companion of your past years has passed beyond your ken."_ gestured Asinath, examining the ruins of Adroa's bunk.  
"Yeah? Well, we're better off without her." Catra crossed her arms and scowled. She started to roll her eyes but then snapped her attention back to Asinath's limbs.  
_"Weep for things past which shall never be again. Cry woe to the indifferent heavens. Rend your clothes and, wailing, beat your breast."_  
"I'm nothing like that!" denied Catra, mistaking advice for accusation.  
_"Speak, if you be not afraid. Confront you pain and overcome it; this denial boots you nothing."_  
"I went to the Princess ball, with Scorpia. Did you know she's a Princess? Like straight up, the Fright Zone is her ancestral land?"  
_"And?"_  
"And nothing! They were just a bunch of dorks. Maybe some badasses. Just... regular folks. Adora was there"  
_"You danced at the revels of your foe, quaffed wine, ate of their food. Fought with them."_  
"I never said I danced with anyone!" Catra glared. Asinath affected boredom, waving one limb airily.  
_"She was pretty?"_ Asinath had a lot of experience with talking with Catra, and you had to work your way around the denial and pretend indifference if you wanted to get anywhere.  
"She didn't know anything Asinath! She was so curious and clever and she liked tiny food and spying on people and she had the most amazing hair and she didn't know anything about anything!"  
_"Tiny food?"_ signed Asinath. It was literally the least interesting thing Catra had said, but sometimes you had to ease up when your ridiculously prickly friend was being vulnerable.  
"Like Vol-au-vents or some shit."  
_"And now you hold the vision of her ever before you."_  
"She thinks people are nice!"  
_"Shall you strive to be the person she thinks you are or, coward-like, flee her sight? "_  
"I'll probably never see her again anyway." Catra glanced away, then caught herself and looked back at Asinath.

* * *

 

  
Catra was wrong about never seeing the dorky princess again. She was here now, apparently living in the walls. Spying on her and Scorpia and committing petty theft of electronics. Not in an acquisitive way, or because she didn't care about people being deprived of their stuff (and they were at war! She should be trying to deprive them of material!) but because she just needed to borrow it for a minute and it would be back before anyone missed it. Okay so it actually wouldn't be because she'd accidentally build it into something and then forget, but the point was she was basically innocent in her intentions.  


* * *

 

  
Catra woke up on her not-all-that-luxurious force captain bed with Entraptra crouched over her, staring at her face. Her pupils were wide in the darkness.  
"...plagued by uneasy dreams. I will attempt intervention." Entrapta reported into her dictaphone.  
"Why are you in my face?"  
"Hello, best friend Catra! I am concerned for your well being!" Entraptra was, as always, alarmingly perky.  
"I'm fine, except for the crazy princess in my face, at" She glanced at her clock, "oh three hundred hours."  
"And the nightmares. They are probably symptomatic of the stress of your new responsibilities as Force Captain, your complicated, hard-to-define but powerful feelings about Adora leaving and you supplanting Shadow Weaver! And your fear for Lord Hordak. But! I can help!"  
"I don't have nightmares!" denied Catra fiercely.  
Entraptra's dictaphone squealed as the tape rolled back, and then played Catra's sobbing voice back to them, "Adora, please don't leave me alone with Shadow Weaver."  
"I have been gathering data," said Entraptra joyfully. "By spying on you. It was fun!"  
It should be illegal for anyone to be so energetic, thought Catra, blushing.  
"You've done so much to make me feel welcome. I really appreciate it. You said that I belong here, and gave me a Runestone to work on, and you tried to fetch me some of the First Ones' tech from the Whispering Woods." Entraptra hugged herself gleefully " I wanted to make you feel just as cared for."  
"Which is why I'm going to tie you up." She smiled happily .  
"Awww," said Catra sarcastically, "That was sweet, right up to the point where you went full Crazy Princess."  
"No! it's like a break, right? Me and Emily tie you up and then you're not responsible any more. You can't do anything wrong. You can't start acting like your mother. You can't drive anyone away, or hurt anyone you care for. "  
Catra didn't say "I don't care about anyone."  
Then she didn't say "no."  
Then she said, "I must be crazy to even think of this."  
"No, crazy is going three nights without proper rest and not doing anything about it. Even Scorpia's noticed that you're red-eyed and twitchy. Her illustration is a form of vernacular knowledge that I am folding into my study of you." Entraptra's hair pulled the stick-figure illustration in question out of her overall's pocket and displayed it proudly.  
"I'm going to die of her," thought Catra, "She's going to pay so much attention to me that I will actually die of it."  
"I need you to say yes Catra. I swear I'll look after you until morning, but I need you to agree."  
"What if I change my mind?" Catra hated how small she sounded.  
"Then we stop."  
"Yes."  
Entraptra scooped her up in her hair and then wrapped her arms around her too. Using her legs and another pair of hair bunches to support Catra's weight, she ran to her lab.  
"Science!"

 

* * *

 

  
Meanwhile, somewhere near Seaworthy, Sea Hawk picked up Bow and ran, bellowing "Adventure!"

 

* * *

 

  
Entraptra held her up against the wall and looped her hands through the restraints that she'd been kept in when Catra and Scorpia had first found her.  
"You know that I can't sleep standing up, right? That's horses or something."  
"hmmm..." said Entraptra, putting her hand to her chin. Then she gestured with her hair to Emily, and the bot plunged her manipulator assemblies into the wall left and right of Catra, and then wretched the whole section free before holding it horizontal and lowering it gently to the ground. The casual display of overwhelming force and dizzying speed made it perfectly clear: the shackles were symbolic. She had always been at Entraptra's mercy. Catra shivered. "Entraptra? The other princesses would have come back for you if I didn't let them think you were dead."  
"Subject will not give up power without using it. Even if use is stupid and hurts herself and others they care for," Entraptra didn't say into her dictaphone. Instead, she said, "I'm going to hold your hand now, if that's okay?"  
Catra nodded. Under the gloves, Entraptra's hand was pale and calloused with oddly tiny nails. She stroked Catra's wrist with the other one and wrapped her hair around them both.  
"Do you believe me when I say that nothing you can do now is going to drive me away?"  
"I tricked you into staying."  
"I have surveillance data that shows it is the sort of trick where you risk your life in the Whispering Woods to bring me trinkets." Entraptra kissed her knuckles.  
"You're my best friend Catra. I might still daydream about meeting someone who is actually interested when I talk about the logical structure behind First One's Code, but I don't think that shared interests are the same as friendship. You're not that excited about it but you supported me anyway. And that's a different sort of wonderful. I'm not leaving." Entraptra blinked back tears and clutched fiercely at Catra's hand. Catra finally relaxed.

 

* * *

 

Catra dosed. She felt warm and safe and drowsy, with the weight of Entraptra's head bearing down on her chest. Every time she wanted to move, she reasoned she shouldn't because it would wake her and maybe she wouldn't come back, and every time she did shift, she realised she couldn't and in the muzzy logic of near-sleep, somehow that meant that Entraptra wouldn't leave her. It was the best feeling.

* * *

 

Scorpia found them in the morning, with Entraptra sitting to one side, curled up with her head over Catra's heart, hands still linked. She woke them with a laugh. "Ha! I thought it was just me who kept forgetting who the prisoner is!"

* * *

 

"I think we should send a message to our other friends, so they know they don't have to worry about us." said Entraptra.  
Catra knew a good Force Captain would glare at her. She was talking about spying! But after last night, somehow her heart wasn't in it. That was ridiculous, they hadn't even done anything.  
"You know, "Dear Alliance Princesses, I'm staying in the Fright Zone with Catra, wish you were here, PS Catra says "hi, I got a promotion!"."."  
"It'll have to go past the censors," said Scorpia, "So you need to miss out anything that looks military. Make it more like "Dear Adora, I'm staying at your old place with your sister, we are going to have seventeen adorable babies, I'm having a wonderful time, PS Your mom got in trouble at work, so she's filling in for her."  
Catra knew she should glare at her, too. This was insubordination! And Adora certainly wasn't "Dear". What she actually said was, "Do you really think that we can be friends with them?"  
"Plusminus four." said Entraptra. "If you give an estimate without a confidence interval they'll know it wasn't from me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opening paragraph is just there to keep this on track for the wrestling AU.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my happily-ever-after for the series.

Asinath raised one tentacle over her maw for quiet and winked cheekily at the crowd.  Then she reached over the edge of the ring, pulled a length of pipe from underneath and slipped it around another limb.  
On the other side of the squared circle, Perfuma was doing her bit; making flowers bloom from the ringpost, weaving them into a wreath and flinging them into her side of the crowd with a happy smile and wide, innocent eyes.  
Asinath tapped her shoulder and she turned, with a cartoonishly exaggerated gesture of surprise, just in time to get a faceful of pipe. It was more of a caress than an actual blow - Asinath's hydrostatic skeleton did not allow for strong outward motion, but Perfuma sold it beautifully, turning with the strike and collapsing to her knees. 

 

* * *

 

  
In the dressing room they hugged; Perfuma gross and sweaty and overheated, Asinath dripping with something that resembled light oil.  
"You were perfect. I could really feel the flow of universal energy between us tonight."  
Asinath pushed a lock of Perfuma's hair back from where sweat had stuck it across her face and looked at her. She couldn't really sign to someone so close, so she leant into the hug and gently squeezed the mammal's abdomen and thought, "you too, demonstrated a mastery of physical storytelling."  
She gently turned Perfuma in the embrace and started to gesture - slower than usual to make up for the novel point of view.  
_"An inspired performance, for all that the casting was without imagination or value."_  
Perfuma giggled. "You're such a drama queen." She leant back to Asinath's bulk, thought for a moment. "Roleswap next week?"  
_"Soppier still shall I be, frail child of light and air."_  
"I'll get to be a creepy forest spirit. You'll be all `oh aren't these flowers brightly coloured and pretty, lalala, why am I suddenly grappled by a thousand vines?' It will be amazing."  
Asinath lent an eyestalk over Perfuma's head so she could see her grin.  
_"There will be riots in Plumeria. Wild nights of fury and fire."_  
"Flower crowns knocked askew. Mantra left unchanted."  
_"Say more of this vision, whereby I am helpless at your mercy. But first, divest yourself of attire, bathe, and rub yourself with sweet herbs; I can taste you through my skin."_  
"Yeah, I'm pretty gross. See you in a bit."

 

* * *

 

  
Asinath had tuned her chromatophores up to their maximum brightness- swirling iridescent blues on cheerful yellows. The audience did not recognise aposematic display, and she heard at least one "so pretty!" from the crowd as she scampered towards the stage. She managed a bounce to her locomotion, although she could not actually skip. She threw tentacle-fulls of flax petals from a quaint wickerwork basket as she approached the ring.  
Perfuma had arrived in the ring before her, and grown a number of huge, vaguely menacing blooms in violet and purple. She'd then slung herself under the ring on her vines, out of sight but not technically out of the ring because she hadn't touched the ground.  
Asinath dropped her basket and threw off the red hood and capelet before scrambling up the ring to pick the pretty, enticing flowers. She flattened down to the stage, gazing at them with an exaggerated performance of rapt fascination, pointing all her eyes at the Venus man-trap while Perfuma ascended behind her, held up by a menacing sylvan bulk, tendrils writhing around her feet like the edges of Shadow Weaver's robe.

 

* * *

 

  
It ended the way it should, with the evil forest spirit exorcised from Princess Perfuma by violent application of The People's Tentacle*. Asinath had pushed for Purfuma, inspired by the display of Proletarian virtue, to cast aside the accoutrement of royalty, and, singing a rousing peasant song, dedicate herself to a life of honest labour.  
"No, dear," said Perfuma. "For a start, I don't have any of those, and secondly, the polemic on class struggle should be an ongoing plotline, not something that gets wrapped up in a musical routine and thirty seconds."

  
*While certainly the most popular usage, this translation is a bit wonky. What Asinath gestured would more accurately be rendered as "the glorious tentacle of the Etherian peoples".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lines that got dropped:
> 
>  
> 
> _"I am but the humble people's commissioner for drama."_


	4. Babies ^h^h^h^h Spawn ever after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra and her friends discuss children.

"You guys are going to help me with something," said Catra, carefully glossing over the weakness of saying "I need your help."  
"Adora's been hinting that she wants kids and I just ... ugh. It's a really big step, you know? Like how do I know that I'm ready to kill a bird and wait for the shadows to hatch out of it and then cut open someones bones to shove the shadows into their marrow?"  
Scorpia blinked "But laying your eggs in your paralysed victim's chest cavity is a beautiful and natural thing! Why wouldn't you want to do that with someone you love?"  
_"Confusion."_ signed Asinath in agreement, wrapping an understanding limb around Scorpia's bicep. _"May your hatchlings number as the sands of the desert."_  
"I know Adora better than you, and even if she wants kids, I'm pretty sure she'd hate you know, making them. She's all "A person is more than meat." Princesses, ami right?" Catra rolled her eyes at this display of prissiness.  
"I get no complaints," smirked Scorpia. "And Adora's crazy for you, she won't mind if your a bit fumbling your first time. In fact being a bit awkward can be very sweet."  
"Think of them as compost for the beautiful flower of your love," said Perfuma, leaning back into Asinaths many, many arms, and ignoring the customary dig at her status.  
_"Our semi-vegetable offspring shall grow in chokingly luxurious profusion and wrap their tendrils in patient strangulation around the heart of the world,"_ promised Asinath. Perfuma smiled and kissed the juncture of her trunk and tentacles appreciatively.  
Once Emilly had finished translating Asinath's signing into machine-clicks, Entraptra spoke into her dictaphone. "Girl's night log hour three. Subjects appear unaware of mammalian reproductive and recreational sexual practice. I shall attempt education."

Entraptra gave a fifteen-minute impromptu lecture; Emily projecting slides. She ticked off points on her fingers and carried on with her hair when she ran out of digits. At the end there was a general round of awkward shifting. Finally Scorpia summed it up.  
"Ugh. Mammals are weird."  
_"So your spawn grows within you, parasitically feasting on your blood for 6 months?"_  
"Nine," corrected Entraptra, "I'm told it inflicts hormonal imbalances and moodswings."  
_"The broodling then exits the mother, not a paralysed host, but a volunteer genetic donor in a wash of gore and cushioning gel."_  
"Pretty much."  
_"And no one has thought to grant these "Mothers" the sweet release of death?"_  
"More research is required, but I think they.. like it?"  
"Mammals are fucking hardcore," said Scorpia, appreciatively.  
"So when are the seeds dispersed by the winds so that they may grow where nature wills?"  
"They don't. and there's only one or two of them."  
"Only one or two? That seems very inefficient," said Perfuma. She turned back to Catra "Don't you think Adora deserves a couple of thousand seedlings, at least?"  
"I ... shit. I knew this was a big deal, but now it sounds like it's a big deal with different body-horror than I was expecting. And less bird-hunting, which was the bit I was really confident about."

"I have developed a theory as to the origin of some erroneous understandings. Catra, please answer honestly: did you receive the cultural information packet colloquially known as "The Talk" from Shadow Weaver?" said Entrapta, making air quotes with her hair.  
"Yeah? Is that something else she said just to mess with me?"  
"I theorise that she spoke in genuine ignorance of mammalian mores. I further theorise that Adora received the same erroneous data packet, and will be just as horrified when the truth is revealed."  
"Maybe she'll be freaked by your horrifying mammal-antics, and will settle for just stealing a couple of kids like your mom did?" said Scorpia.  
Catra sagged in relief. Then pride grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and dragged a boast to her lips.  
"Okay, yeah, maybe we can do that for now, but I'm better than Shadow Weaver, and one day I'm going to be ready for kids in the nightmarish mammal style, even if she never found someone to have horrifying shadow-babies with."  
"Wooo! You go girl!" Exclaimed Scorpia, pumping one claw in the air.


	5. Masqurade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The People's ball is a necessary counterpart to the Princess Prom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Camilla: "You, sir, should unmask."  
> Stranger: "Indeed?"  
> Cassilda: "Indeed it's time. We have all laid aside disguise but you."  
> Stranger: "I wear no mask."  
> Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) "No mask? No mask!"
> 
> The King in Yellow, Act 1, Scene 2d

_"It shall shall not stand,"_ gestured Asinath, _"the workers and peasants of Etheria deserve fabulous balls just as much as the Princesses."_  
"What are you going to do?" scoffed Catra "Run your own?"  
_"Yes. There are yet mighty temples from elder times, hewn into the rock of this world, of which man knows nothing. They shall do very well for a venue."_ gestured Asinath.  
"I'll share my unparalleled knowledge of tiny food with the caterers!"  
"We should invite the Princesses, too," said Scorpia. "They always invited me to their thing."  
"Like they'll come after we blew up their party."  
_"For revenge. To prove that they be not cowards; to dance with loved ones,"_ signed Asinath, casually ignoring Catra's last month of denials about Adora.  
_"We shall invite the Eternians too. They that dwell within the corpse of the dead god can not blanch at a party invite."_  
"I was literally dying of boredom because you were talking about a princess-party, but I could have sworn you said that .... someone ... lives in a dead dude."  
_"Castle Grayskull is the physical remains of,"_ the next gesture was indescribably complex, a long sinuous twisting thing of coils upon coils, patterns on her skin passing from limb-to-limb in a way that left the near-humans blinking. _"Is this not known?"_  
Scorpia was the first to recover enough to say, dazedly "Yeah, I'm never going to be able to do that," and that seemed to be enough to jog Catra and Entraptra back to normal.  
"Okay." said Catra, "I can see it now. Venue. Catering. Guests. Gradually increasing paranoia as we do nothing."  
"Cognitive hazards," grumbled Entraptra, "You realize that Emily needs rebooting after seeing that?"  
_"Sorry."_  
"Music?" asked Scorpia, "Something lively you can dance to as well as something classy."  
"With a publication date within the last cycle of this world," added Entraptra, "Because of the cognitive hazards."  
_"A masquerade! They are very popular for intrigue, and,"_ Asinath turned at least seven eyes and stared meaningfully at Catra, _"secret romantic assignations."_  
"I never really got what the business with masks is. I always wear mine in case of welding emergencies, obviously, but why do people think they hide identity?"

* * *

After Enraptra had assembled another dress for her, she asked Asinath if she knew anything about dancing.  
_"I have danced at sacred revels that no human has seen and lived. I danced when the aurora leaped high over the ice cliffs above many-columned Y’ha-nthlei, before there was ever such a thing as "man". I danced before the idol in the black pyramid that is hidden from mortal eyes."_ ; When Asinath signed "dance " it was a curving gesture, a joyful movement of artful grace.  
"So, no experience with a bipedal partner then?"  
_"...No."_ ; Entraptra didn't need Emily to repeat that word as a sequence of machine-clicks.  
"Practice with me? I want to get better at, you know, people-things."

* * *

 

The Palace of the Scared Revels of Sardathrion is of onyx and chalcedony, with many a twisting spire that ascends to an unseen ceiling. It is lit by strange art from no visible source; all the pathways are of jade, and through it runs a river of surpassing cold clarity, down to a sunless sea. It was made, not by masons, but by jewellers in the youth of the world, and the centuries have not hurt it, but rather added to its lustre. Very beautiful is Sardathrion, and none now may claim it, for its makers are all dead, and their conquerors, and their conquerors too are passed out of memory, and so Sardathrion is the inheritance of all the world. 

* * *

There were practical advantages to holding the People's Ball in the lost city: if you lived Brightmoon palace, or the gutters of the Fright Zone, or in the prosperous merchant's district of Seaworthy, the architecture was still strangely proportioned, confusingly alien, and intimidatingly beautiful. It was important to establish commonality of experience. 

It was the first time that the princesses had seen Entraptra since they received the dubious note, and Perfuma abandoned any pretence of dignity to run across the nine-sided hall of greeting to where she danced in an artless frenzy of limbs and gyreing prehensile hair. She slid under the flailing appendages and swept her into a hug.

At the ball, Asinath danced, all long sinuous strength and flowing art nouveau gestures, muscular tentacles sliding over and around each other with an infinitely refined elegant power. That wasn't what had people staring, unfortunately. No, what called and kept horrified attention focused on her was the gratuitously obscene wet noises of thick tentacles dripping with vicious ooze sliding over each other. 

* * *

Catra, perhaps inevitably, skulked at the edges of the crowd and in the shadows, waiting for a big entrance. Asinath knew she shouldn't leave her post- welcoming guests to Sardathrion was not something that should be delegated lightly, but it was really too good an opportunity to pass up.  
_"Do you seek for creatures indescribably alien to sate your hideous vertebrate lusts on?"_  
"What? No. Seriously what is with you and this conviction that everyone with bones wants to bone you?"  
_"None can resist my infinite plasticity and curious rubbery strength."_  
"No. Dude. No. Just. No."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Catra's inexplicably innocent adventures in kink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, last chapter before I watch season 3. Not that this has had anything to do with canon since the one second shot of Asinath in season 1 episode 1.

Hey! Catra!" enthused Entraptra, "Do you sweat?"  
"What? no? just my hands and feet I guess."  
Catra would have no idea why Entraptra asked that until it was far too late.

...

"Hey! Catra! Sniff these synth-material samples and tell me if any of them smell overpowering?"  
"This one's pretty inoffensive."  
Catra would have no idea why Entraptra asked that until it was far too late, too.

...

"Working with Asinath has given me a new appreciation of couture!" enthused Entraptra, "The environmental considerations! Matching materials to the surface consitancy of the wearer! Solving for the cuts and connections necessary to produce a locally flat surface that covers a higher-dimensional manifold!" Asinath had at least one body-part that extended Beyond The Spaces Known To Man, but even shaping flat cloth around a merely solid body was a pretty fun challenge.  
"And I know how much you hate it when your fur gets wet. Scorpia reported on this aspect of your boat-date on twelve separate occasions!"  
"It wasn't a date!" denied Catra hotly.  
"Hahaha! I am completely reassured of your romantic purity which both of us value greatly," agreed Entraptra, paying careful lip service to a social game that she was confident all of them despised.   
"But! I'm getting off topic! I made you this!"  
"This" was a roughly person-length flop of slippery black membrane. Catra eyed it dubiously.   
"It's impermeable, so it would get pretty gross on a sweating person, but it should be fine on you, and it will keep water and muck off your fur, and it is wipe-clean, which will help with contamination! It will compress your fur a bit so it doesn't get caught in machinery, but I don't know if that will feel weird. Try it on!"  
"It's clothes?" Catra stayed dubious. "Rubber clothes?"  
Entraptra nodded enthusiastically, delighted that Catra had fully understood her creation.  
"Rubber-like. The internal surface is low-friction so it won't tug on your fur too much as you pull it on. It's high-stretch with just neck-hole access, because zippers near fur seemed like a terrible idea."  
"I'll look bald."  
"And shiny! I calculate you'll look about ten percent less bulky from the fur compression as well."  
"hmmmm. Let me think about it," Catra paused for effect, "No."  
All of Entraptra's care and practical engineering concerns were dismissed, just like that. She frowned; she had hoped not to have to do this.  
One: format it so Catra has deniability, "I am sure that on consideration, you will realise that this has lots of practical advantages, so I will just leave it in our quarters in case you change your mind."  
"My quarters!"  
Two: Give her something to deny, "Unrelated: my surveillance of the princess prom included line-of-sight tracking for all participants. Analysis of this data shows that Adora is an arse woman."   
"Further unrelated, this is tighter than your leggings."  
Three: dispel all suspicion with a display of naivety, "Have you seen my entirely peaceful giant laser? I'm sure only friendly uses exist for something that can vaporise squirrels from a mile away."   
Four: A graceful exit "I'll be in my lab, see you later."

...

Climbing into it was a disaster; Catra was simultaneously glad Entraptra had left so that there was no one to witness her lose a fight against a glorified rubber band and frustrated that there was no one to help her. She put the legs on twisted and had to start over twice and got one arm on inside-out. The less said about the tail-gusset the better. She did manage to restrain herself from popping her claws so at least it wasn't shredded by the time it was on.   
Once it was on, there was still twisting and smoothing out to do, until finally, it settled like a dream, like a whole-body hug; every part of her gently and evenly squeezed; a silent (or actually, slightly squeaky) reassurance that her favourite dorky princess was always looking out for her, even if she was painfully transparent at manipulation. Her limbs looked weird without the fur to smooth over them though, all knees and elbows. Insectile. The tailoring was perfect enough that Catra knew she was going to have to tell Entraptra to stop measuring people in their sleep.   
And considering Entrapta's so-called manipulation, which of course was not working, and she was only interested from an academic viewpoint... Catra twisted round in front of the mirror. Okay, yes, her arse was fantastic. Like she didn't know that already. In the mirror, her tail curved elegantly up, maybe twisting sideways a bit at the thought of Adora, except of course that was ridiculous because she never thought of Adora, she didn't think of Adora like that and she was a mysterious, enigmatic creature who didn't have obvious tells.   
Something flickered at the edge of her vision and she twisted further after it, only it moved ahead of her, and she dropped to turn faster but it stayed just at the edge of her vision and ... she realised she was chasing own damn tail like a complete dork.

Dammit. At least she was a sexy dork.

...

"Hey, buddy!" Said Scorpia cheerfully, apparently indifferent to walking in on Catra chasing her own rubbery butt, "lookin' good!"  
Catta sat and looked dignified, wrapping her tail around her feet, like a statue of Bastet that had lain undisturbed 'neath the desert sands since elder days.  
... she needed to spend less time with Asinath.  
"So Entraptra told me about the new outfit she made you and I wanted to ask if you wanted to come play in the Slime Pit. It's like super gross and hilarious. Defiantly the best Force Captain perk, but if you come you gotta go in, no sitting watching everyone else. Even Hordak has to get slimed if he comes."   
"Isn't that stuff mind control goo?"   
"Yeah, but we're all mind controlled not to worry about it, so it's probably fine. It's not like we aren't part of a coercive system of oppression anyway, so the choices isn't between freedom and slavery but between slavery and slavery where you get to giggle at Octavia with purple gunk on her face."  
"Octavia does have a stupid face," conceded Catra. "I'm in!"  
"That's the spirit!"

**Author's Note:**

> Helen Macfarlane's 1850 translation of the Manifesto is responsible for the hilarious "frightful hobgoblin" phrasing.


End file.
